Baby Black
by vnsjvhgs
Summary: Summary: Jacob, not knowing that his wife is lying and cheating on him, searches for a willing girl to carry his child through traditional surrogacy as he thinks his wife is sterile. Nessie, having financial problems, and an urgent need of money, accepts the offer. They meet.
1. Chapter 1

I don't know how many of you are still with me- after all, it's been like what? Three years?

Maybe even four.

But, I seem to remember promising myself that Baby Black was something I wanted to get through- something I really wanted to put a whole lot of time and energy into, because Lord knows it would totally pay off with a prompt as good as the one I was given.

So, in honour of sticking to my guns, I'm editing and republishing.

As I said, I don't know how many of you are still out there, or are even still a part of this fandom (I personally haven't even bothered to look at anything to do with it for the past few years), but if you're still around then this is for you.

Stay tuned.

 **EDIT:** I'm aware that there's another story posted with the same summary. We both used the same prompt from SheeWolf85 and for those confused, I originally published Baby Black back in April of 2012 and got 15 chapters in before leaving the story to fester. Since then, I've been back and deleted it with the resolve to rewrite and re-upload. If anyone wants any kind of proof that I haven't just taken the idea outright from another author, then feel free to PM me and I'll happily provide you with screenshots/emails necessary. Thanks!


	2. Quinn

_Hi there!_

 _How are you all? Are any of you still with me? With this story? How are your lives?_

 _I told you I'd be back, and I am as of tonight, with this rushed, redone first chapter of a story I'd forgotten about!_

Quinn Alexander-Black could honestly say that being a mother had never previously crossed her mind.

Despite having spent her whole life focused on the next step, children had never been one of them. She'd never been the girl that had wanted the picket fence or the pacifiers; she had always wanted _more_. To attend an Ivy League, and then to get her law degree. To have her feet hit the ground running in the firm of her choosing, and to find the perfect apartment two blocks away. To get the man, and then to make him marry her, and then to slave away for the next few years to make partner at the firm she'd spent the past five bleeding for.

And quite frankly, babies hadn't fit into that equation, so she hadn't given them any thought. Or rather _hadn't_ until four months ago, where she'd found herself laid out on a marble counter with her husband's head between her legs.

"Why don't we make a baby?"

Jacob had always been the hitch in her plans, and he'd caused her breath to hitch that afternoon in the kitchen with those single few words. He'd been the first spanner in the works of her life; he'd proposed three months after meeting her and in doing so had completely derailed the extensive courtship she'd initially budgeted for. She hadn't said no, of course; they were married in a registry office and had honeymooned for a weekend in North Carolina. It had mainly been due to the fact that she couldn't take the time from work, though the fact that he couldn't cop the bill of anything more lavish played a large part of it. Of course, they'd made up for it many times over in the seven years since, with trips to various parts of the world; travelling through countries she couldn't even pronounce. They had been a real rags-to-riches kind of story, or, as rags-to-riches as two trust fund kids could be.

But as much as he surprised her, nothing he'd ever done had surprised her quite as much as that question. Quinn hadn't heard him speak of children before, nor had she ever seen him interact with a child of any kind. Granted, his sister had popped a baby out two years ago, but they'd sent a gift when they'd heard of the kid's arrival and hadn't heard much from Rachel since. And she hardly thought that an estranged niece would be enough to inspire him to have his own children; Jacob loved his job as much as she loved hers. They didn't have time for a baby- she hardly even had time to take a dump most mornings.

"Pardon?"

Jacob had emerged from under her skirt then, squinting against the afternoon sun filtering through the shutters, and in the light his hair tinged blue, not completely unsimilar to the colour of an oil slick.

"Why don't we have a kid?"

She'd pushed herself up on her elbows, her blouse creasing at her waist. Her skirt was still hitched up around the tops of her thighs, but she paid less mind to that. Instead, she had focused on her husband, on the way his hands had left her hips and were now folded around the smooth edge of the counter, fingers tapping against it nervously.

"Do you want one?"

He hadn't agreed or disagreed, but had launched into a story about how his coworker brought his son to the office with him every Thursday afternoon, and how the son had sat with him at his desk sometimes, and told him all kinds of childish stories about his friends or his day or how he'd won a soccer game on the Saturday just been. "I want to go to soccer games," he'd said. "Don't you want to do that kind of thing?"

Quinn couldn't say that she did. Her Saturday mornings consisted of troweling through her emails with a bagel and a coffee, working up the courage to shower and drag herself into the office for a few hours, where she'd take a client's four minute phone call that she'd later bill to the nearest fifteen.

"I don't have time for that," is what she'd answered with. "I don't think you have time for that."

"When you have kids, you make time," Jacob shot back, having taken a step back to begin pacing the length of the island. " _I'd_ make time. We can hire a nanny to take care of it when we're not here, and I can cut back my hours or work from home if I need to."

She'd noticed with a jolt that it wasn't nervousness she thought she'd seen earlier; it was the same anxious determination that overcame him whenever he had a presentation of any sort. Whether pitching to a new client, or arguing his side of one of their various disagreements, he did the same straight-backed pace every time, his voice clear and authoritative, decided.

"I don't even have time to be pregnant."

"I know," Jacob assured, pausing mid-stride to face her. "Do you remember Embry? His wife couldn't carry to full term; she had something wrong with her womb. They used a surrogate and their kid came out perfect- they didn't even need to do the whole birthing part."

"I don't know," Quinn said, and she'd meant it. She thought it sounded almost ludicrous, the thought of hiring someone to have a child for her, and then paying another to take care of it. Nannies hadn't been uncommon in her childhood _or_ Jacob's, but the thought of physically eradicating herself from a child that was meant to be hers made her mildly uncomfortable. "Can we put a bookmark in this? I have to leave in fifteen."

Jacob had nodded, his chin falling slightly after. Her answer had disappointed him; that much was clear. But really, he couldn't have expected her to decide right then and there. He knew of her plans, her schedules. He knew of her goals, of the dream she had that was toying at the tips of her fingers. She'd heard the whispers circling the office, and she knew she'd make partner. It was there, and it was attainable, and it was more important than anything she'd ever known. More important than a child, than her husband's sudden desire to start a family.

But she hated disappointing him, so she told herself they'd touch on it later. Another day, when she'd done her own research and considered all angles, all consequences. Maybe a child was something she could be open to, with a bit of thought. It would bring her closer to Jacob, and perhaps even give her the illusion of domestication that she knew she was so thoroughly lacking. Maybe she could balance it, and if not, she could hire the help that would.

And while the first time the thought of being a mother had crossed Quinn Alexander-Black's mind had been for the wrong reasons, crossed her mind it had, and like a dog with a bone, she knew she wouldn't be able to put it down.


End file.
